My Last Letter to My Dear Friend Eddy

Posted by Frankly Francis on August 18, 2012 under Personal | 12 Comments to Read

Edward Berezowski

Hey Eddy –

I’ve put on some obscure Iggy Pop from your collection and smoked a little to set the mood.

Your body stopped functioning yesterday, and you passed away a few days before that.

I am actually thankful for the deep cold virus that inhabits me right now and seeks to live at my expense.  It forces me to be more inactive, which gives me time to think of you and our times together.

So, I thought I would write you one last time.  Maybe you can read this, maybe you can’t, but there is little to come that you don’t know already.  Maybe this is selfishly more for me than it is for you.

How prophetic that you would die at the hands of the state.  How wrong.  How fucked-up.  This is going to have to work itself out within me in the future as I am not capable of dealing with it right now.  But I will deal with it, on that you can rest assured.

What a prequel it is that your father, of Polish nobility, would be killed working for the secret service of the allies during the Cold War while you were still in your mum’s womb.

You weren’t properly “schooled” because you couldn’t take them and they couldn’t take you, yet you were one of the smartest people I’ve ever had the opportunity to be around.

Oh, and Eddy (and I must say as trying as it was sometimes), I really like how you understood and looked for the Zen in everything.  In your occupations as a mason and plumber you were a magnificent craftsman. You raised masonry and plumbing to a form of art.  I wish others could better understand you in this regard.  As a chef, you prepared a private meal for the artist then known as Prince, and had your own audience with him.  I wish you had more of those experiences for a lot of different reasons.

Like virtually everyone in my life, your political views were different from mine.  But unlike virtually everyone in my life, your views came about from deep study and a real search to determine your position.  I would very much like to think that was one of our mutual traits.  Tears rise up as I realize that I will never be able to call you a “socialist twit” again during one of our thankfully many discussions.  You never had any idea how much I enjoyed calling you that, but on the other hand, perhaps you did.  It wasn’t that you were a “socialist twit” (as we both knew you weren’t), but that you would let me call you one.

As you well know, I have said for over 30 years that you are one of the few people that I would give my life for.  You didn’t give me the chance.

The world at large did not want you in it, my friend, but of course, you knew that.  It did not want to listen to the inconvenient truths you so readily spoke of.  It, metaphorically speaking, shut its ears as you raised your voice thinking that it was the decibels it should be avoiding instead of listening to your different point of view.  It could not tolerate your non-conformity.  By everyone’s standards, you weren’t normal, and that meant that they classified you in demeaning, negative ways.  The fools…

And it is because of all of the foregoing, that I knew that the world needed you in it.

I think I will take “a little one” now in your honor and to dull the sadness in me.  Na Zdrowie Brother.

You married a girl who even at her young age saw, as she describes, “the diamond in the rough” that you were.  How many people have missed what was obvious to her?  And though you have left, you added two daughters who I am sure, just like you, will make the world a better place.

You and your house were a haven for others that didn’t fit the mold very well – generally musicians or people who liked being around musicians. I find it ironic, yet wonderful that you, a guy who faced his own mental demons all the time, was able to “mother” them so well.  Each walked away the better in some way for the time spent with you.  You should be really pleased by that Buddy.

There is not a musician who received your help that did not appreciate your efforts.

Very few really ever knew how much of a musician you were.

I am glad that my children got to experience you in their lives – they are the better for that.  And just for the record Buddy, they are thankful for that too.   Biology never interfered with your being a true member of our families.  Holidays, camping, pinochle, talking, arguing, fixing stuff, music, hanging out together – these are times I will always remember well.

You continually referred me to interesting authors, Neal Stephenson being the latest.  As a source of music and literature, as well as philosophy, you added so much to my existence.

Who will take your vital place in my life? There are so few capable.  You were truly one of kind Ed.

Oh, and I have to mention that in the past, when someone close passes, I have felt an overwhelming blast of loss.  In your case, the blast of loss deepens as the days go by.  You always had to be different, didn’t you?

You fought the good fight Eddy – See ‘ya on the other side, Brother.

Your Friend,


  • Debbie Law said,

    Perfectly said…our one-of-a-kind friend.

  • Steve Headrick said,

    “Ditto” . . (and I’m gonna miss my pinochle partner even more now, too) . . .
    Travel with a smile, Ed – You always did . . .


    awesome unclefran i second your thoughts uncle fran.we had special times me and ed one of which was when ed and i went to THE DIAMOND DUST and eddie kept shakin his head as i was being arrested for impersonating a cheek cop””’
    he always smiled and remembered that

  • Billy Arnone said,


  • Rhi said,

    A beautiful tribute to you best bud, Pops. Thanks for sharing.

  • Chris Kinkade said,

    As beautiful a eulogy as Gene Fowler’s book “Good Night Sweet Prince” was to John Barrymore. I barely knew Eddy but feel after reading this that know I truly do know him. He was a pretty wonderful guy and was obviously much loved, he was surrounded by it. Bless you Fran for sharing this, deeply felt, deeply moved…..

  • rob walters said,

    couldn’t have said it better myself rest in peace ED the village won’t be the same without you

  • Jim Bachraty said,

    Without Ed, I never would have had a band, I never would have even played my first gig at the Island Park or the Continental, I never would have met Bob or Bill or Fran or Billy or most of the people I know now.
    Muscially his life was so intertwined with mine, that I doubt I would have done anything if Ed hadn’t made do it. I owe him more than any person could possibly repay, and yet he never once asked me for anything.
    I exist as musician today because of Eddy; and even when his days ran together, he still took the time to tell me what I should do!
    His consideration for the people in his life was his greatest asset, his muscianship was his greatest love, and his friends are truly his friends- genius.

    Muzyka , życie , miłość

  • Lisa Lisa said,

    Thank you for sharing in your grief Fran. Mister Eddie made a young girl think there were many possibilities for the life each of us has been given.

  • tara coyne said,

    Sorry for the loss of Ed. He knew my brothers Bernie & Peter well. Hope something comes out of this. Something needs to be done about these ‘suicides’ . Someone needs to do an investigation. It is bullshit.

  • Sandy said,

    As painful as it was to read, I liked it Fran. Of course I cried. And, kind of like Eddie, I am writing now without much care about how it is coming out…I probably won’t be fixing it, either. He used to send me things he wrote to see what I thought before sending it off – usually regarding some political issue – a response or idea. I cannot even begin to write enough of what I feel for this man, and nor is this where I should, if I were to. All I know is I share the depths of love, loss, and respect for Eddie with you Fran.

  • Emilee said,

    I was one of those people he helped. Thank you Ed, Well said, Fran